


a plane rides lonely and level

by Cinaed



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Chorus (Red vs. Blue), F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Presumed Dead, Reunions, Season/Series 16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-22 19:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15588702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: After Project Freelancer crashes and burns, Niner starts working as a smuggler on the edge of human-controlled space. Hired for a very unusual courier job, she finds herself on Chorus, where her past is about to catch up with her.





	a plane rides lonely and level

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to me! 
> 
> Thanks goes out to folks in chat, who helped me figure out fight scenes and military stuff to make this fic work. Most of the spoilers have to do with Season 15, but just to be safe I'm going with a note for spoilers up to 16x08. 
> 
> The title comes from "[Song](http://www.thepoetryexchange.co.uk/uncategorized/song-by-adrienne-rich/)" by Adrienne Rich.
> 
> A great fic cover and art by ideare can be found [here](https://amanivuote.dreamwidth.org/18584.html)!

It wasn’t that she _wanted_ to die young. Niner would have been perfectly happy dying at the ripe old age of one hundred, sitting in the cockpit of a decommissioned ship and halfway through a story to some wet-behind-the-ears pilot. But she figured that the odds were against her. They always were for adrenaline junkies, even if the Director had her stuck on monitor duty, listening to Agent Washington chase the Meta around.

It was almost a relief when Project Freelancer went up in smoke and she found herself with a warrant out for her arrest. She might be flying a stolen Pelican, but at least she was _flying_. She took herself off to the farthest edge of known space. The UNSC had plenty of shit with the Director and everything else to concern themselves with. A single pilot might slip through the cracks if she was smart about it.

Fred’s Transport didn’t make much of an attempt at pretending it wasn’t a front for smuggling. She watched it for a day, keeping an eye out for anyone who pinged her radar as soldier or undercover cop, before her stomach reminded her that no money meant no food. When she walked in and said, “I heard you need a pilot. I once out-maneuvered three Longsword fighters in a Pelican troop transport,” the guy behind the counter laughed until he realized that she was serious. It took a trip around the planet in the Pelican to convince him of her skills, but she got the job.

The job that was going to kill her, she supposed, staring down the barrel of a rifle. She kept her hands up, light and easy, and said in a mild voice to the pirates who’d just killed the rest of her crew, “Hey, take what you want. I’ll just sit here, okay?”

The head pirate, or at least the one speaking for the group, shook her head. “Contract’s a contract. My client wants Fred’s crew dead.” The pirate stood too close to possibly evade, and besides, there were four pirates behind her, weapons at the ready.

Niner blinked. Four? Hadn’t there been six a minute ago?

The head pirate’s rifle lifted a little to point at Niner’s head. Niner instinctively tensed, bracing for a bullet she probably wouldn’t have time to feel.

Instead the rifle clattered to the floor. The pirate looked surprised, and then her eyes rolled up and she fell. In the span of one blink, two more pirates were down. Another blink, and a third slammed against the wall and sank down to the ground. The last pirate managed to get off a wild shot before he crumpled.

Niner threw herself down on the ground, covering her head as the bullet ricocheted. When the ringing in her ears stopped, she cautiously raised her head. All seven pirates were down and either dead or unconscious. She hoped for the former.

As she watched, the air seemed to shimmer like it did on hot days planet-side. An imposing figure in steel and green armor appeared. “I’m guessing a thank-you is in order?” she ventured when the figure just stood there. She raised an eyebrow beneath her helmet. “Though it sounds like there’s a contract out on me and my ship. Maybe you just want the bounty.”

“No.” Her rescuer was male, with a smooth, deep voice that weirdly sounded a little offended that she’d made that suggestion. He bent and offered her his hand. “I’m not here to kill anyone. I believe that you and I can help each other.”

Niner hesitated, and then let him help her to her feet. “You need a pilot?”

“Not just any pilot. You.”

The back of Niner’s neck prickled with unease. “Well, it’s nice to be wanted,” she said slowly. “But there are plenty of other smugglers who could probably get your goods wherever they need to go--”

He said her name. Her real name, the one she hadn’t heard in years, not since she’d been recruited for Project Freelancer. Her mouth went dry as he tilted his head and said evenly, “But I believe you go by Niner now. I need _your_ help, Niner.”

Unbidden she remembered that first day at Fred’s, how the realization that Project Freelancer was gone had hit her like a ton of bricks when Fred had asked her for her name. “Niner,” she’d muttered at last, fighting to keep her expression blank despite the grief and rage choking her.   

“Nein Ur?” Fred had repeated, turning the name over in his mouth. He’d studied her features. “What is that, Japanese?”

She was Taiwanese, but she'd settled for a mild, “Something like that.”

Now she licked her lips, glad that her rescuer couldn’t see her face. Her chest constricted. She hadn’t recognized the voice, but that didn’t keep stupid hope from bubbling up. Had someone else from Project Freelancer actually escaped the UNSC’s net? She’d lived too long on the edge of space. She didn’t know jack-shit about what was going on out there. “Who are you?”

“Someone who needs your help.”

“Yeah, I’m going to need a little more detail than that. Like your name.”

He took so long to answer that she’d begun to wonder if he’d refuse. “Locus.”

The name was unfamiliar, but something in the curt way he offered it made Niner suspect that she should recognize it. She swallowed against disappointment. One of the pirates stirred, groaning weakly. She kicked him in the head. When Locus made a disapproving sound, she rolled her eyes. “They just killed my crew. My crew was a couple of assholes, sure, but they were _my_ assholes.”

“I didn’t come here to kill anyone,” Locus said. “Or to see anyone killed.” He paused, then offered awkwardly, “I’m sorry for not arriving in time to prevent the deaths of your crew.”

Daniels and Ai had been checking on the cargo in the back when the pirate ship had appeared from behind an asteroid and blasted a hole through the Pelican's side. They’d hopefully died instantly. Niner had barely gotten the cockpit doors shut before she and Peterson could be pulled out into space. Then the pirates had torn through the doors like they were made of paper. Peterson had managed to draw her pistol from her hip before three pirates shot her. It had all been over in a matter of minutes.

Niner grimaced. She’d learned not to get attached, but she was going to miss Ai’s cooking and Daniels’ twisted sense of humor. And Peterson had been fun in bed. “Yeah, well. Can’t complain too much when you rescued me. But if you’re serious about not killing anyone, we should probably go before these guys wake up.” She crouched beside the pilot chair, pulling out her emergency bag.

Locus nodded and turned. He led her to the back of the Pelican, pausing only to patch the holes in the damaged doors so that the pirates wouldn’t be sucked out into space. Then he ducked through the destroyed rear into what couldn’t possibly be the pirates’ ship. This ship could maybe hold two or three people comfortably. It also wasn’t anything human-built.  

Niner stopped in her tracks, staring around at the gleaming alien technology. She itched to explore. Locus had wanted a pilot, hadn’t he? Maybe he couldn’t fly this ship. But no, he had to know how to fly it, or else he wouldn’t have arrived in time to keep her head on her shoulders.

“This is A'rynasea,” Locus said.

“A'rynasea?” She rolled the name around on her tongue. It felt right. “She’s beautiful.” She sighed a little, unable to help herself, as Locus went to the controls. They pulled away from the damaged Pelican. Niner watched it disappear into the distance with a pang of regret. It was the last thing she’d had from Project Freelancer other than her name. She’d known that ship better than she’d known most of her lovers.

She waited, hoping for a distraction, but Locus didn’t say anything. Finally she cleared her throat. “So, how can I help you?”

“I need you to transport a woman somewhere quickly, quietly, and safely.”

Niner frowned. “Not that I’m not willing to do the job, but can’t you transport her with A'rynasea?”

There was a long silence. “It’s...complicated.”

“Uh huh,” Niner said skeptically. She studied Locus, remembering how efficiently he’d knocked out seven pirates. Even with that handy camouflage, it was still impressive. “Look, Locus, I don’t do kidnappings, even for people who’ve saved my life--”

“I’m not kidnapping her! Why would you assume that?”

If she’d thought he’d sounded offended earlier, that was nothing compared to now. She lifted her hands in a placating gesture. “Take a look in the mirror sometime. But seriously, that’s it? You just need me to transport this woman somewhere for you?”

“She was supposed to be on Chorus three weeks ago. Her first two pilots had been paid to have an ‘accident’ halfway through their journey. The third had refused any bribes, but his second-in-command hadn’t. Her protective detail and I have thwarted at least five attempts on her life so far.”

“Yeah, okay,” Niner acknowledged. She didn’t recognize the name of the planet, but that didn’t mean much. “You do need a good pilot.” She paused, but he seemed to think that information was sufficient. “So who is this woman, and why do so many people want her dead?”

There was an even longer silence than before. Finally Locus spoke.

“Her name is Megan Wu, and she’s suing the UEG and UNSC for Chorus’s independence.”

 

* * *

 

Megan Wu, scourge of all opposing counsel in the known galaxy, was a small, sharp-dressed woman with short black hair, five-inch heels, and a lipstick game that was so on point that it made Niner, who’d never worn more than lip gloss in her life, ask for advice. When she’d smiled during their introduction, Niner had finally understood why lawyers were called sharks.  

Megan wasn’t smiling now as she stood beside Niner’s pilot seat and peered out into the endless dark. Instead she looked pensive. “Mason tells me we’re making good time,” she said. Mason was her husband and the head of her security detail. Niner sometimes wondered which had come first, the private security company or the first attempts on Megan’s life as she’d begun to build her reputation.

Niner patted the ship affectionately. “She’s a good ship. She’ll get us there.” Before pulling a vanishing act that Niner probably should’ve seen coming, Locus had presented Niner with the _Miao_ , a gorgeous winter-class Prowler that had been impressive even before Niner had made a few illegal adjustments.

Megan nodded. “I’ve always been fascinated by aerospace psychiatry and psychology, though it so rarely comes up with my cases,” she said, an apparent non sequitur. “Humanity went into space almost six hundred years ago, and yet we’ve still never quite mastered that instinctual fear of the void.”

It took Niner a second to realize they were apparently in the middle of a conversation. She shrugged. “Yeah, space will make you crazy.”

Megan looked directly at her. “So how do you keep from going crazy, Niner?”

Niner snorted. “Who says I’m sane?”

Megan didn’t smile at the joke. Instead she just waited, like she had all the time in the world, her dark eyes sharp and steady.

How many people had broken down on the witness stand just from that look? Keeping secrets from this woman was going to be a pain in the ass. Locus had asked Niner to stay silent about his part in keeping Megan safe, and she’d do it, despite the request meaning that she apparently had to fend off a million questions. She owed Locus her life; she could do that much. Besides, her own life story didn’t exactly inspire confidence, even if she’d thought she was fighting on the side of the angels and all that self-deluded bullshit for a while there.

She leaned back in her chair, feigning casualness. “Look, ma’am, all due respect, but I’m just here to fly you to Chorus. We don’t have to be friends.”

“No, we don’t,” Megan agreed. “But I prefer to know a little about the woman who has my life in her hands.”

“Fair enough,” Niner said. She thought over the question. “I’m not sure what to tell you. I don’t let myself fly alone for too long, because isolation will make you squirrely. I don’t let myself worry, because once you start worrying, you can’t stop. Besides, there’s no point. Most times when something goes wrong in space, you’re dead before you know there’s a problem. Maybe I’d feel different if I wasn’t the one flying, but I’m the only pilot I trust.”

“That’s an interesting way of looking at things.”  

Niner shrugged. “It works for me.”

Megan nodded. “And who do you trust?”

It had been years, but still the name of a dead woman came to her lips first. Niner’s hands went nerveless on the controls. She was suddenly so angry that she wanted to spit. She tried to close her eyes and take a breath, but red hair taunted her against the back of her eyelids. Her question was hissed through clenched teeth. “What is this, Twenty Questions? Do I need to tell you my entire life story to get some peace and quiet, or can I just do my job?”

The cockpit was dangerously quiet after her outburst.

Megan’s mouth was a thin, unsmiling line when Niner opened her eyes. “As I’ve explained already, you are a stranger. Not only that, but you control a ship that holds myself, my husband, and his people. They are my responsibility. I will ask any question I wish, and you will answer it, because otherwise _we have a problem_.”

The back of Niner’s neck prickled as the cockpit door slid open. She knew without looking that Mason had stepped inside. His silent gaze felt like a pistol between her shoulder-blades. Her anger cooled. Well, she’d screwed this one up. Somewhere, Locus was probably regretting his choice in pilots without knowing why. She kept her hands very still on the controls.

When she could trust her voice, she said lightly, “Twenty Questions it is.”

“Who do you trust?”

Niner wanted to shrug. She kept herself as motionless as her hands. Mason had been retired for years, but the scars and every movement he made betrayed the soldier he’d been. He might not have a weapon aimed at her, but she figured better safe than sorry. She licked her lips behind her helmet, weighing her options. After a moment she settled on honesty. “Myself.”

“No one else? You don’t trust the person who suggested this job?”

Niner huffed out a laugh, thinking of Locus: his weird silences, his easily offended feelings, and his stubborn refusal to elaborate on his complicated relationship with the Wus. “No, but I owed him.”

“So who sent you to us?”

Niner hesitated. Before she could answer, Mason spoke.

“Megan, enough. You know that Sam sent her.”

Satisfaction flashed in Megan’s eyes. “I do, but only because I remembered your story about the original _Miao_ ,” she said. “Not because you told me. I don’t appreciate being left out of the loop, especially in regards to _him_.” There was an entire history book in that last word. “Next time I expect a discussion.”

“Of course,” Mason said, apologetic.

This had been a set-up, Niner realized, torn between irritation and admiration. The questions hadn’t been about her at all, or at least not completely about her. They’d been meant to spur Mason to honesty. She should’ve known she’d gotten the job too easily. She twisted in her chair to stare at Mason, who didn’t have a gun in his hands after all. “ _Sam_ ,” she repeated, struggling to match the name to the man. “He called himself Locus.”

Mason sighed. “Of course he would. Code names only.”

“And just look at everything he’s done with that code name,” Megan said coldly. “You still trust him after everything?”

“I….” Mason rubbed at the knife-notch in his ear and grimaced. Before he’d radiated a quiet competency and dangerous energy. Now he just looked like anyone in the middle of being dressed down by their spouse. “It’s complicated.”

Niner snorted. “That’s what he said,” she said, and wished she’d kept her mouth shut, because Mason and Megan both broke off from their marital squabbling to look at her. “I asked him why he couldn’t fly you to Chorus. ‘It’s complicated’ was all I got out of him.”

“It _isn’t_ complicated!” All of Megan’s poise had left her. She stalked up to Mason. Even with her heels, she still had to tilt her head back to stare her husband directly in the eyes. She bared her teeth and hissed furiously, “The man committed genocide! Mason, just because he was your friend once upon a time doesn’t mean--”

“He saved my life!”

“ _After_ putting you in harm’s way because he and Felix thought--”

Niner glanced between them, weighing her curiosity against the headache their argument was causing. She raised her voice. “Not that this isn’t interesting, especially the whole genocide thing, but could you two fight somewhere else?”

This time Mason and Megan both blinked at her like they’d forgotten she was in the room. Then Megan’s eyes narrowed. “No. Why did Locus choose you as our pilot?”

Niner knew she wasn’t doing herself any favors, but she shrugged again. “You’d have to ask him. Maybe he knew you’d never let him fly you there, and I was the next best option? I’m a damn good pilot.”  

“A damn good pilot with no allegiances to anyone.”

Again the memory of shining red hair and bright green eyes taunted Niner. Could you claim loyalty to your dead? Probably not. Even if you did, they were dead. It was just an example of your failure. She shouldered her grief and said, “Listen closely, because I’m only going to tell you this once. All the people I trusted are dead or gone. But Locus saved my life. I’d have done a lot more to pay off that debt than courier an annoying lawyer and her entourage to her next trial. If that’s not enough for you, I’ll take us to the nearest planet. Your hubby can try to find another pilot.” She injected nasty cheer into her voice. “Maybe fourth time’s the charm and the next one won’t be another assassin!”  

Megan raised one elegant eyebrow. Oddly enough, Niner’s last smart-ass remark had seemed to calm her. In fact, Niner thought the other woman looked slightly satisfied. Had she been played again? No, that had been genuine anger and dislike in Megan’s voice when she’d argued about Locus.

Niner inwardly shrugged and gave up on understanding the woman as Megan said evenly, “No need to be rude, Ms. Niner. You’ve made your point. Mason, I still don’t trust Locus, but I do believe that he seems to care about your safety, and, by that extension, mine. I suppose we’ll have to trust her.”  

Mason’s expression softened with affection. He took his wife’s hand. Niner thought it was obnoxiously sweet until he asked, “Would it help if I had one of my people guard her?” and Megan nodded.

Niner wrinkled her nose, not looking forward to having someone constantly in her space. It was still a better choice than ditching the Wus on a planet and waiting for Locus to track her down for failing to fulfill her debt. “Whatever makes you both sleep easier. Just no chatterboxes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mason said.

 

* * *

 

Three days out from Chorus, Niner squinted at her screens. The scene wasn’t a wholly unfamiliar sight, not after the decades of war had left a mess all across the known universe, but it was definitely a complication. She turned and said to her silent guard, “Hey, Zhao, tell your boss we’ve got a problem.”

A few minutes later both Megan and Mason frowned at the display. “Is that what I think it is?” Mason asked.

“That depends. Do you think it’s a ship graveyard left over from some battle? Because then yeah, bingo. There’s clustered debris, leftover explosives, and I’m guessing just a lot of other super fun stuff. It’s also right in our path. I’ll go around it, but the detour will add about half a day to our trip--”

One of her sensors blinked red. When she tapped at it, everyone frowned at the sight of three ships peeling away from where they’d been concealed behind a ruined ship that drifted in three pieces. Judging by the size and speed, they might’ve been pirates, if pirates had a habit of risking their ships in a remote part of the galaxy by a dangerous debris field, and could afford technology that could track a Prowler.

Niner figured that this was assassination attempt number six, but she asked anyway. “We weren’t expecting company, right? No Chorusan ships as vanguard?”

“No,” Megan said grimly.

Niner smiled behind her helmet. She’d been starting to get bored. Three against one should be fun. She flipped a switch, warming up the autocannons she’d installed herself, and began calculating how much the engines could take for a fast exit. “Then I’d suggest everyone buckle in.” She glanced at Mason. “Any of your people know how to handle a turret? I’ve got three.”

“Two excellent, one decent. I’ll send them up.” Mason turned away, snapping orders into his comm link.

Megan lingered a moment. She frowned at the display. “It’s too bad we can’t capture one of those ships. I’d love to ask them a few questions.”

Niner snorted. One thing she’d learned about Megan was that the woman had an endless supply of questions, most of them nosy and obnoxious. “I’m sure you would. Now get yourself someplace safe, Ms. Shark.”

Megan gave her a look that promised retribution for the nickname, then left.

“Here’s the plan. I outrun these bastards. If I can’t, you need to kill them,” Niner said when Ramirez, Nichols, and Lincoln hurried into the cockpit. She’d learned everyone’s names despite herself. She wondered which was one the merely decent shot. She waited just long enough for them to strap themselves in, and then pressed the button for the intercoms. “All right, everyone. Hang on while we deal with these dicks.” Then she flipped a few switches on her consoles.

The _Miao_ leaped forward. Niner watched the three red dots on the display fall further and further behind, both satisfied and a little disappointed that it had been that easy. Had they really not done their research and realized that Megan had left in a Prowler? The engines could keep up this speed for at least fifteen minutes before starting to overheat. By that time the _Miao_ would be long gone.

Her display chimed. Two more ships were pulling out of the debris field in front of the _Miao_ , trying to cut her off. Excitement fluttered low in Niner’s stomach as the _Miao_ flashed another warning that they’d be within firing range in thirty seconds. She laughed. “Aw, Wu must feel special. Five against one? They _really_ want her dead.”

She did a barrel roll ten seconds before one of the new ships fired. The autocannons returned fire, and Niner had the satisfaction of watching one of the ships scatter into about a million pieces. One of the turrets fired its lasers at the second, hitting one of its gun ports. Fire bloomed and died in space, but the ship kept coming.

Another turret fired, and this one split the ship evenly in two.

Niner drew a quick breath, but the words, “Nice shooting!” never left her mouth. Alarms registered multiple incoming missiles from all three ships behind them, and she cursed instead, chanting, “Dicks, dicks, _dicks,_ ” as she did a few complicated maneuvers to dodge and turn the Prowler to face the enemy.

She mostly managed it. One missile scraped over the left wing, but the display registered it as minimal damage. Already the ships were firing a second volley. She dodged again, and this time had to do a desperate roll, one missile missing an autocannon by inches. That would’ve been nasty.

Niner studied with the display with a quick eye, and made a split-second decision. She bared her teeth in a grin and pressed a button. The Prowler spat out two mines. She watched them almost clip the wing of the ship closest to the debris field. Once the mines were within range, she called on the intercom, “Everyone close your eyes in three, two, one!” and pressed another button.

She’d seen nuclear mines go off before at a distance. They were kind of beautiful in a terrible way. She knew that these particular explosions would spread, kicking off a chain reaction throughout the debris field that probably would’ve looked incredible if Niner had wanted to waste the last few seconds of her life to stick around and watch.

As it happened, she liked being alive, and hauled ass. The Prowler’s engines strained at their limit but took them away from the explosions that nipped at their heels. From the corner of her eye, she saw the three red dots blink out. She kept the engines at their limit until they were well away, and then she slowed down. She started running diagnostics on the active camouflage systems and emissions distortion grids.

She sent off one third of the Prowler’s remote drones to muddy their trail as the diagnostics ran, and made a note to ask Mason to watch the autopilot while she double-checked the _Miao_ herself for potential sabotage. Pressing the button for the intercom, she called, “All clear.”

“Damage report?” Mason asked, sounding like the soldier he’d been.

“The assholes messed up the _Miao_ ’s paint job, but otherwise we’re all right.”

“We’ll be there soon,” Megan said.

“Sure thing,” Niner said. Then she turned towards the three guards. Nichols was shaking out her wrists, grimacing a little like they ached. “Nice shooting,” she said sincerely. All three heads turned towards her, wearing expressions that ranged from surprised to pleased. “Remind me to buy you three a round of drinks when we get to Chorus.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Lincoln said. “That was some flying!”

It took Niner a second to realize that he was being sincere. She grimaced. “Don’t call me that. It’s Niner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lincoln said.

“Uh,” Ramirez said as the cockpit door slid open and Mason and Megan stepped inside. “Did you just drop a couple nuclear mines into the debris field and then gun the engines?”

Mason’s expression, which had been warm with relief, went blank, and then quietly murderous. His hands dropped to his hips. “Nuclear mines?”

All three guards took one look at him and decided to make themselves scarce. Maybe Niner wouldn’t buy those cowards drinks after all.

Megan raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”

Mason looked ready to toss Niner out the nearest airlock, but Megan was a harder read. Niner pitied any idiot who played poker with the woman. She shrugged, keeping a wary eye on Mason. “It was a calculated risk. I let our mines trigger a few leftover explosives in the debris field. I knew the _Miao_ could outrun the chain reaction.”

“And if you’d miscalculated?”

Niner was glad she was in her armor. It meant she might have a fighting chance if he lost his temper and tried to shoot her. “We’d all be dead.”

She’d guessed wrong. Instead of going for his pistol, Mason turned and kicked the wall. The display flashed a complaint about minor structural damage. She squinted at the dent, surprised, as Mason snarled, “Well, that’s goddamn great. So you decided to just risk my wife’s fucking life because, what, you thought we’d _probably_ get away?”

“Mason,” Megan said. “Take a breath. We’re alive.” A hint of irony crept into her voice as she added, “Or are you having doubts about Locus’s choice in pilots?”

Mason winced. Apparently he was still in the doghouse over keeping her in the dark about his old friend. He rubbed the nick in his ear. “I trust that he believes she’s a good pilot. I just hate that she played with your life so recklessly--”

“ _Enough_ ,” Megan said. This time firmness mixed in with the affection. She touched his arm and smiled wryly. “Being helpless while others protected me is frustrating, isn’t it? Now you know how I felt during your enlistment.”

Mason smiled, seemingly despite himself. Niner made a face behind her helmet as he bent and kissed his wife with a sweet, easy tenderness. “I hated it. I’d rather be the one shooting at the people trying to hurt you.”

“Cheer up. You’ll probably get another chance on Chorus,” Niner said. Both Megan and Mason gave her a hard stare. Fuck, she missed the Freelancers. Most of them would’ve appreciated her trick with the mines and the gallows humor. Carolina might have even asked her if near-death experiences were a turn-on with laughter in her voice.

Niner swallowed against her regret and said lightly, “Too soon? Fine. But seriously, I’m beginning to think I should stick around when we get to Chorus. Just in case you need a fast exit.”

That earned her one of Megan’s sharp and steady looks. “Was that part of your deal with Locus?”

Niner frowned, vaguely uncomfortable. She replayed the last few sentences in her head. She hadn’t meant to sound like she’d gotten attached to anyone. She avoided Megan’s eyes. “Well, no. He just told me to get you to Chorus and gave me the Prowler. Think he’ll let me keep it? He’s already got his fancy alien ship. He can’t need two.”

“Perhaps you could work for Mason,” Megan said at the same time Mason said, “Wait, Sam has a _what_?”

Niner wondered if this was Megan’s revenge for Niner’s earlier joke, and then decided to ignore her. That felt safer. She turned to Mason and explained, “Locus has an alien ship.” She sighed, distracted by the memory of A’rynasea. The _Miao_ was a good ship, but A’rynasea had been otherworldly, like something out of all the science fiction novels Niner had read as a kid. The desire to fly her at least once was a bone-deep ache. “She’s beautiful.”  

Megan looked slightly amused. “Just consider my suggestion. Mason could use a good pilot on staff.”

Niner snorted. “Maybe he does. But _y_ _ou_ definitely do, Ms. Megan ‘I’m Going to Get on the UEG and UNSC’s Shitlist’ Wu.”

This time Megan didn't seem bothered by the latest nickname. “Does that mean you’ll consider it?”

Niner shifted uncomfortably beneath the woman’s intense gaze. She was relieved when the display chimed, announcing that the diagnostics was complete, though her relief was temporary. She frowned at the results. “So the ship claims everything’s fine with the camouflage system and emissions distortion grids, but that doesn’t explain how those assholes found us. You got anyone who can babysit the autopilot for me while I do a personal look-see? I’m guessing someone planted a tracker during the inspection back on Earth.”

Mason frowned. “We inspected the ship ourselves after the inspection. Nobody found anything.”

“Who knows what little surprises the UNSC cooked up during the war that they kept to themselves? I’ll take a second look.”

Niner didn’t know why she was surprised when Megan chose to follow her. “Don’t you have to prepare for the trial?” she asked, swallowing down a sigh. “Or have a panic attack that someone tried to kill you again?”

Megan’s expression turned wry. “If I had a panic attack whenever someone tried to kill me, I’d never get anything accomplished. And I should have been on Chorus weeks ago. I’m as prepared as I can be.” They walked in blissful silence for a moment before Megan said, “I did mean it. I doubt many people could have won five against one like you did. I think you would be a good addition to Mason’s team.”

Niner’s heart clenched at the last word. The fact that she was half-tempted made her angry. Hadn’t she learned better after Project Freelancer and her smuggling crew? “Thanks but no thanks,” she said, more harshly than she’d intended. “I told you, I’ve learned my lesson about putting my trust in people. They all fail you in the end.”

“By dying?”

Niner was glad for her helmet, because it hid her wince. She felt guilty for implying that her friends had been failures, and even angrier for feeling guilty. But everyone had left her in the end, hadn’t they? They hadn’t even found Carolina’s body.

“Yes,” she said shortly. When Megan looked about to argue, Niner kept walking, using her few extra inches of height (despite Megan’s heels) to outpace the other woman.

Megan didn’t press her again.

It was almost a relief when Niner uncovered a tracker concealed in some wiring. For a moment she imagined herself smashing it into a million tiny pieces. Then she put the tracker on one of her other mines and sent it off into space. If there was anyone left to track them, that asshole was in for a nasty surprise.  

 

* * *

 

Chorus looked decent for a world almost decimated by a genocidal war, one which according to Megan had ended less than two years ago. Apparently some rogue UNSC soldiers dubbed the Reds and Blues had helped to fight off a bunch of mercenaries, who’d wanted the planet for its alien relics. The capital definitely gave off a post-war vibe, though Niner spotted a Chili’s as she landed the _Miao_ at the half-built spaceport. She idly wondered if they had a Chorus-specific menu, or if she could still get an Ultimate Bacon Burger.

“I’d say here we are, safe and sound, but that’s just asking for trouble,” she said.

Beside her, Megan laughed softly. “Thank you for refraining.”

“Look, Meg, there’s President Kimball,” Mason said, pointing at a figure in sand-colored armor surrounded by soldiers.

“Let’s not keep her waiting any longer,” Megan said. That familiar shark smile was back, her grin bright and dangerous with anticipation. Honestly, Niner almost pitied the opposing counsel, whoever those poor bastards were. “We were expected weeks ago.”

Niner snorted. “Yeah, after six assassination attempts, I think they’ll understand. Let’s hand you off to the president so I can try the Chili’s. If you need a fast exit, you know how to contact me.”

Megan shot her a look she couldn’t quite interpret. “So you’re turning down our offer?”

Niner squelched a pang of regret as she shook her head. “Sorry, but I made a rule. No more getting attached to people. I’ll stick to ships _._ ” She caressed the _Miao_ ’s consoles. “I really hope Locus lets me keep her.” Not that she had a plan past keeping the _Miao_. She couldn’t exactly go back to Fred after losing his crew, the shipment, and the Pelican. Besides, for all she knew, the pirates’ client might’ve taken an extra step and eliminated Fred as well.

Mason had been giving Megan a fond smile, but now he focused on Niner. He looked less than enthusiastic about the prospect of working with her. Niner suspected that he was still testy about the whole nuclear mines thing. Still he cleared his throat and said, “Well, if you ever change your mind….”

“Sure,” Niner said, not meaning it. “Now put your helmets on. I’m not explaining to good old Sam how I got you to Chorus and then let you get taken out by a sniper five seconds later.”

The Chorusan sun was bright even filtered through her helmet. Mason’s people fanned out, joining Kimball’s bodyguards in forming a protective circle around the group. Niner watched Kimball, curious. So this was the leader of the resistance who’d united two divided groups and become president.

“Ms. Wu?” Kimball said through her speakers, stepping forward, her gauntleted hand outstretched. “So glad you made it.”

“Thank you for your understanding over the delay. It took me some time to find a trustworthy pilot,” Megan said, shaking the president’s hand and tilting her head towards Niner. “We could stand here and chit-chat, but I’d rather go to your office and start discussing our next steps. Have you been gathering witness accounts like I asked?”

“Yes,” Kimball said. Together the group moved towards a line of armored limousines. “In fact, one of my guards today is a key witness. She’s part of the the Reds and Blues.” Her voice warmed with amusement. “Although she’s _supposed_ to be on medical leave.”

One of her guards, this one wearing cyan armor, held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Do I need to remind you that Dr. Grey cleared me for light duty, Kimball?” There was a thread of laughter in her voice.

Time stopped. Niner stumbled to a halt. She started to rub at her ear before she remembered that she was in full armor. She shook her head. She’d misheard, of course. Megan’s poking and prying had stirred up old memories and now she was hearing ghosts. It didn’t help that on closer inspection, the woman’s armor mimicked Carolina’s preferred style and favorite color.

Of course Megan noticed, turning towards her as the woman in cyan armor opened the limo door and ushered Kimball inside. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Niner said. The word got stuck in her throat. She coughed and said, louder, “No. Just, uh, some feedback. Probably need to replace this helmet or something.” Realizing that she was rambling, she clamped her mouth shut.  

Megan’s helmet radiated skepticism, but she said nothing as she and Mason got into the limo. The other guards began to scatter to the other limousines, but Megan gestured for Niner to get in with them.

“If you need a replacement, you’re welcome to use our armory,” Kimball offered.

The woman in cyan armor lingered at the door, her hand resting on the hood of the limo. She was studying her, Niner realized. “You’re the pilot?” the woman asked.

“Is there a problem, Carolina?” Kimball asked.

Niner didn’t think. She threw herself forward and then froze as a pistol pressed against her neck where the armor was thinnest. She kept herself still, her mouth too dry to speak, her hands paused mid-reach. Her armor alerted her of her rapid heartbeat and labored breathing.

“President Kimball,” Megan protested, and then was presumably silenced by a look. At any other moment Niner would’ve wanted to see how someone could quiet Megan Wu, but she only had eyes for Carolina, who stood before her like a stone statue.

The pistol dug in a little more. “Carolina?” Kimball asked.

The sound of her name sent a tremor through Carolina’s entire body. “I,” she said, and reached out for the clasps of Niner’s helmet. When she lifted the helmet off Niner’s head, her sharp gasp was audible through her voice box. “ _Niner_?”

Carolina’s helmet blurred and turned to bluish smears as Niner’s eyes watered. Despite her best efforts, her voice shook when she said, “Hey, Carolina. Looking pretty good for a dead woman.”

The pistol lifted from her neck. Kimball said dryly, “An old friend?”

Niner fumbled at Carolina’s helmet. Carolina’s face was gaunt and pale, her green eyes bruised. She looked even worse than those last few weeks with PFL, when she’d been consumed with the need to defeat Tex. She was still the most beautiful thing Niner had ever seen.

Carolina’s smile spread slowly until it lit her drawn face. “Yes,” she said simply.

Niner snorted, and knew her voice wobbled as she said, “An old friend who’s going to kick your ass. You couldn’t drop me a postcard? I thought you were dead for fucking _years_!”

“You didn’t make yourself easy to find,” Carolina said. “Where were--” Shattering glass interrupted her; she threw herself onto Kimball as shards of the window struck her armor.

Much to Niner’s own surprise, she found herself instinctively diving for Megan. She half-collided with Mason as they both covered her. “You make _one_ joke about snipers and the universe decides to be a dick,” she complained, and then pressed her face against the seat cushion beside Megan’s head as another shot came so close that it ruffled her hair.

Carolina and Kimball snapped as one, “Smith, report.” A pause, and then Niner looked up to find Carolina up and moving, a pistol in her hand and her face concealed by her helmet again. Mason was up a second later, armed and radiating a cold rage. Carolina looked down at them. “Kimball, protect the civilians.”

“Hey,” Niner protested, offended to be lumped in with Megan, but Carolina and Mason were already gone.

“Any injuries?” Kimball asked as the limo began to move.

“No,” Megan said, her voice a little shaky. “Niner, you can get off me now.”

“Niner?” Kimball said sharply, and Niner realized that she hadn’t answered.

“I don’t think so,” Niner said. She ignored Megan’s request. Mason wouldn’t forgive her for not shielding Megan until they were completely out of danger. Danger, which Carolina and Mason had gone running towards, leaving Niner behind. She could see Carolina’s point: put her at the controls of a Pelican or a Prowler and she could kick ass, but dealing with snipers wasn’t her specialty. It didn’t mean she had to like it.

Adrenaline soured her mouth, made her heart pound unsteadily. She closed her eyes, but still her mind played out the worst-case scenario: Carolina’s eyes empty, a sniper’s bullet staining her hair a different shade of red. Niner understood Mason’s temper tantrum on the _Miao_ now.  

She waited, feeling every jolt of the limo as the vehicle sped through the capital’s streets. It seemed like forever before Kimball sighed and said, “Glad to hear it, Smith. Get an investigation team and Grey on it. We’ll meet up with everyone at the rendezvous point.” In a different tone she said, “Mrs. Wu, your husband is safe. They’ll catch up shortly.”

Only then did Niner move, sitting upright and removing a gauntlet so that she could run a bare hand over her head. Adrenaline could play funny tricks on people. She’d known more than one person during the war who’d bled out without even realizing they’d been wounded. But there was no blood under her fingers, just short hair and cold sweat.

Megan sat up as well. Her hand moved to the clasps of her helmet before she clearly thought better of it, her head turning towards the shattered window. The earlier tremor in her voice was gone when she said evenly, “Well, madam president, I didn’t anticipate quite this many assassination attempts when I agreed to this case. I might have to renegotiate the contract to include hazard fees.”

Niner snorted. “Yeah, I’d say so. That’s, what, attempt number six?”

“Seven,” Megan corrected her.

“Right, seven. That’s two for me,” Niner said. She relaxed against her seat, tilting her head to the side and pretending to think. “Hey, does that count as combat pay? Or hazard pay? I’ve earned some danger money. No, wait, do you think I could get the _Miao_ from Lo--”

“We’ll discuss your contract later,” Megan said sharply.

Niner blinked at her, startled. Then she remembered Locus’ complicated relationship with Chorus. Kimball probably wouldn’t be happy to hear about a genocidal fugitive’s connection to either the Wus or Niner. She shrugged. “Sure. Later.”

Kimball cleared her throat. When Niner glanced towards her, the woman’s helmet was tilted in her direction. “You and Carolina seem to know each other well.”

“They do, don’t they,” Megan said.

Megan’s tone gave nothing away, but Niner would’ve wagered the _Miao_ that she looked like the cat who’d caught the canary. Only now did Niner think to wonder how much she’d given away under Megan’s sharp eyes during the reunion. She grimaced and resisted the urge to rub at the sudden warmth in her cheeks. “Shut up.”

There was a long silence. Then the president of Chorus said mildly, “Excuse me?”

Niner thought longingly of the _Miao_. She could be back at Fred’s Transport in a week if she really worked _Miao’s_ engines. If he wasn’t dead, he’d surely forgive her when she showed up with the Prowler. Just as quickly as she’d considered that idea, she dismissed it. She could put up with an entire planet of busybodies if she had to, since it was clear that Carolina had found a place for herself on Chorus.

Well, as long as she didn’t get herself kicked off the planet for being rude to its president. Niner should probably apologize or something. She grimaced. “Uh, I mean….  It’s...complicated. We worked together. I thought she was dead. I--” The Director’s announcement of Carolina’s death and Tex’s betrayal had felt like a knife between the ribs. Even now, knowing Carolina had survived, the memory still hurt. She avoided their eyes briefly as she ran her hands over her hair again to wipe away more sweat. When she had her expression under control, she said, “It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that I’m going to kick her ass.”

“Really,” Kimball said skeptically.

Megan leaned forward as Niner swallowed back a sarcastic response that would probably have earned a one-way ticket off the planet. “And after that, what are your plans? Are you staying on Chorus?”

Niner forced a laugh. “Worried that I’ll ditch you after all? A promise is a promise. I’m sticking around in case you need a fast exit.” Before Megan could interrogate her like a witness on the stand, Niner turned to Kimball. “So, President Kimball, I’ve been out of the loop. Mind giving me a highlight reel on how Carolina helped Chorus?”

“Of course,” said Kimball. “Chorus was a low-priority planet even before the Great War, and as the war dragged on, we were pretty much forgotten. Medical supplies and food grew scarce. I remember my mother--” She cut herself off with a shake of her head. “But that’s another story. Government corruption led to unequal distribution of resources, which led to protests, which led, eventually, to civil war. We were all so _angry_. But maybe we would’ve compromised eventually, figured out a peace treaty, except--”

Niner struggled with her poker face as Kimball clenched a fist and said, “Except for Locus and Felix.” The names were profanities on the woman’s lips.  

Locus and the Wus had said all this was complicated. It turned out that they hadn’t been kidding. Megan was quiet and still, and probably grateful for the helmet concealing her expression.

“Felix and Locus?” Niner prompted when Kimball didn’t say anything else.

Kimball shook her head again. “Shortly after the war began, a mercenary came to us claiming that he could smuggle in weapons and help us win the war. He called himself Felix. What we didn’t know was that another man, Locus, had joined the Feds with the same offer. Malcolm Hargrove had hired them to prolong the war until we were all dead.”

Niner started at another familiar name. She hadn’t ever met the man, but she knew that as the Chairman of the UNSC Oversight Subcommittee he’d been in charge of dismantling the Freelancer Project. “Why did he want you all dead? Wait, Wu mentioned alien artifacts. Those giant floating alien towers, right?”

Kimball nodded. “Yes. He wanted the technology. I don’t know why. Probably to help his company. But Carolina and the Reds and Blues helped stop him and his mercenaries.” She paused. Her voice was hard and vicious when she added, “I only wish I could’ve killed Felix myself. Someday I’ll put Locus’s head on a pike.”

Niner blinked. She didn’t look at Megan as she asked, “Uh, is that pike a metaphor? Because pulling a Vlad the Impaler on your enemies is cool, but probably not helpful in convincing the UEG that you should be independent.”

Kimball snorted. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Right,” Niner said slowly. Well, that definitely explained why Locus couldn’t escort the Wus here himself. Inwardly, she decided to look on the bright side. Maybe that meant he wouldn’t come for the _Miao_ if she stayed on Chorus. “Good luck with that.”     

Then her memory nudged at her. She frowned. “Earlier, you said Carolina was on medical leave. She was hurt?”

“She and Agent Washington were injured stopping a renegade group that wanted to destroy the UNSC headquarters on Earth and pin the blame on Chorus. I suppose we looked like useful scapegoats with our independence demand.”

“Agent Washington,” Niner repeated. Her stomach sank. After Carolina’s death, after the transfer to Recovery Force, after the Meta had started his rampage, she’d started to distance herself from the agents. She’d told herself that way it wouldn’t hurt when they died too. It’d been a lie, of course, even if she’d managed to sound unaffected when South had reported Wash KIA. Each death had hurt. She’d hidden her relief when Wash had survived. Now she battled between relief and worry that Carolina and Washington had found each other and found more trouble. “He was hurt too?”

Kimball sighed. “Yes. Badly. But she should tell you about it.”

Niner’s stomach sank a little lower. She distracted herself by glancing out the ruined window. Tall, gloomy buildings met her eyes. Seriously, didn’t people want a little color in their lives after years of war? “Where are we going, anyway?”

“My office,” Kimball said. She added dryly, “Where I have bullet and laser-resistant glass windows.”

Niner laughed. “Remind me never to run for president of anything. Seems like more trouble than it’s worth.”      

 

* * *

 

Mason’s first order of business when he entered Kimball’s office was to shoulder through his security team and go straight to Megan. She’d changed into a belted dress  and heels, somehow managing to look untouched by the recent assassination attempt. He gripped her bare arms, looking her over intently, and only relaxed when she smiled and said, “I’m fine.”

A few of Kimball’s security team came in as well, the tallest one ducking so that he didn’t knock his helmet against the door-frame. He went to Kimball, where they whispered together urgently.

Niner saw all this from the corner of her eye. The rest of her attention was on Carolina. Carolina still wore her armor, but Niner watched for any signs of injury. Did Carolina favor one leg over the other? Was she moving a little slower? Niner couldn’t tell. She clenched her fists in her lap and resisted the urge to touch Carolina too.

Carolina stopped beside Niner’s chair and handed a new helmet to her. “It’s hard to send a postcard to someone with no forwarding address,” she said, picking up the conversation as though the snipers hadn’t interrupted.

Niner instinctively relaxed at the sound of Carolina’s dry voice. Her fists uncurled and she snorted as she began to put her helmet on. When she’d finished, she said, “Okay, I’ll admit I was living at the ass-end of nowhere. I mean, I didn’t even know you were busy saving entire planets from assholes like Hargrove. That’s on me.”

“Living at the ass-end of nowhere,” Carolina repeated. “Should I ask?”

Niner pretended to look worried, though she didn’t think Kimball would care about potential crimes done off Chorus. Still, it probably was better not to flaunt being a black market smuggler in front of a planet’s president. She darted a glance towards Megan and dropped her voice to a carrying whisper. “Um, I plead the fifth.”

Megan frowned. “Since Chorus is a legally gray area when it comes to Earth jurisdiction, you shouldn’t use the Fifth Amendment to avoid incrimination. You should--”

Niner laughed, unable to help herself.

Megan’s eyes narrowed slightly. Then she smiled her shark smile and said, “My discussion with President Kimball could take the entire afternoon. Agent Carolina, perhaps you should use this time to catch up with Niner.”

Niner remembered why she’d avoided playing card games with Megan on the _Miaio_. The woman played dirty. Niner was torn between irritation and hopeful anticipation.  

“But Miss Niner was going to buy me a drink,” Lincoln objected. When Nichols nudged him, he added, “And Nichols and Ramirez.”

Niner rolled her eyes. “I’ll buy you guys a round tomorrow. Though not you, Lincoln, if you keep calling me miss. I mean, Jesus.” She looked up at Carolina, dismissing Lincoln as he made a faintly disappointed sound. “I’m thinking someplace special. How do you feel about Chili’s?”

Amusement broke through Carolina’s usual sarcasm, and Niner could hear the smile in her voice. “Sounds perfect. You always knew how to treat a girl.”

Megan turned towards Kimball, though she stayed close to Mason. “All of the snipers are dead?”

“Smith, I don't-- what?” Kimball said, sounding distracted as she turned away from Smith. When Megan repeated her question, Kimball gave herself a little shake. “Oh, we’re still investigating. We have three dead snipers, but one of them had strange wounds that don’t match our guns. It doesn’t seem likely that a fourth man would turn on his accomplices and flee, but we’re not making assumptions.”  

“Ma’am, I really think it could be--” Smith said, and was promptly interrupted by one of his people, who groaned and said, “We _know_ , Smith. You think Locus has been hiding out on Chorus ever since he killed Felix, just waiting to redeem himself. He’d be our goddamn guardian angel if he hadn’t murdered thousands of people.”

Niner was grateful for her new helmet because she knew that her poker face was shit. She didn’t look at Megan or Mason as she sidled towards the door, gripping Carolina’s elbow. Maybe she’d miscalculated on Locus having common sense. Could he actually be on the planet? More importantly, did he want the _Miao_ back?

Meanwhile, Smith and the other man were arguing.

“But what about-”

“Jesus. That was swamp gas reflecting the light from Venus!”

Softer, but with her voice still carrying, Megan murmured, “Well, madam president, I would like to be kept in the loop. In the meantime, I’ve brought my current notes for the case, and would like your thoughts on them. We need to prove that Chorus--”

“What about that stolen picnic basket, Bitters?” Smith demanded, and Bitters threw up his hands and shouted, “He’s not fucking Yogi Bear!”

“ _Gentlemen_ ,” Kimball said, exasperated.

Niner escaped into the hallway. Then she let go of Carolina and blew out a breath. “Bet you ten bucks that Smith guy has some crazy Locus conspiracy board. Seriously, a stolen picnic basket?”

Carolina laughed.

The dried sweat itched, and Niner resisted the urge to take off her helmet again and scratch. She was beginning to understand Mason’s temper tantrum. She handled being shot at better when she could shoot back. “Can I use your shower before Chili’s?”

“Oh, yes.” Carolina paused. Her helmet tilted, and Niner could feel her eyes sweep over her. “And I have some clothes if you don’t want to eat in your armor.”

Niner wrinkled her nose. She and Carolina were almost the same height, which worked. They had opposite tastes in fashion, which didn’t. Niner sighed. She couldn’t deny that she’d enjoy seeing Carolina dressed up, but she resigned herself to a night of vague discomfort as she wore a dress. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

 

A few minutes later, she whistled, impressed, as she studied Carolina’s enormous hotel suite. “Nice.” She almost said something about saving the world having its perks, but then she remembered Washington. She hesitated, peeling off her gauntlets and tossing them at the couch. Should she ask about him?

She turned, and immediately forgot what she’d been about to say.

Carolina had already taken off her helmet and gauntlets, and was reaching for a clasp at her shoulder. Her hair was still longer than regulation allowed, something that had always amused and intrigued Niner. The strands tumbled around her face, a temptation that made Niner ache. Niner knew the feel of Carolina’s hair, smooth as silk against her skin when they’d sat together at bars post-mission, arms slung around each other's necks.

Carolina stilled when Niner touched her shoulder. Even through the exosuit Carolina’s skin was warm, a reminder that she was alive. When Niner slid her hands up to cup Carolina’s face, she could feel Carolina’s heartbeat against her fingertips. Impatience and disbelieving joy tangled together in Niner's chest.   

She spoke slowly, fumbling for the right words. “Do you want to know what I thought when the Director said you were dead? I thought that I was a fucking idiot to be surprised. We were in the middle of a war. People died all the time. But I never thought you…. I thought we’d have more time. Dance around for a few more months and then finally--”

Carolina only had to dip her chin a little to kiss her. Her mouth, too, was warm, her lips chapped. The kiss was slow and gentle, and felt like an apology. When Carolina drew back, her cheeks matched her hair, flushing hot against Niner’s palms, but her voice was steady as she said, “I’m sor--”

Niner shut her up with a kiss of her own. Then she said, “Christ, Carolina. I’m not looking for an apology. You’re alive. That’s good enough for me.” Carolina’s forehead creased, like she was about to argue, and then relaxed as Niner added with a grin, “But if you want to make up for lost time, I see a nice fancy bed right through that door. Chili’s can wait.”

“Chili’s can wait. I forgot what a romantic you were,” Carolina said dryly with a quick upward quirk of her lips. This time, when she leaned forward to kiss Niner, it wasn’t an apology. Her hands slid across Niner's armor, and Niner shivered in anticipation of those hands on bare skin. 

When the kiss ended, she curled her fingers into Carolina's hair and pulled her closer. Her hands had never trembled in a fight, but they shook a little now. Niner savored Carolina's nearness, the warm reality of Carolina alive and here. Arousal and joy were even better than an adrenaline-rush. She murmured, "Keep up that sweet-talk and I might take you for a spin in my new Prowler later."

Carolina's slight smile grew. "Promises, promises." She looked thoughtful as she drummed her nails lightly against Niner's armor. Her fingers stilled. "Here's an idea: first one undressed pays for Chili's." 

Niner, distracted by Carolina's low, warm voice, took a second to understand. By then Carolina was already backing away, stripping off her armor with brisk efficiency, her smile now a challenging grin. Niner laughed, delighted. "You're on."  

They left a trail of discarded armor behind them.  

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [without knowing why](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864732) by [ideare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideare/pseuds/ideare)




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